When the Smoke Clears (Interracial Firefighter Romance) by Kenya Wright Read Free Book Online

moved quickly and precisely, checking the floors and squinting through the smoke. I couldn’t see him, but heard his footsteps far behind me, among the crackling of wood and roar of flames.
    “Clear?” I asked.
    “Clear.”
    “Okay. Let’s do the bathrooms and we’re out of here.” I sighed and hoped no one heard it. The property was old. I didn’t know how strong it would hold up under fire.
    Lord, thank you for getting us this far.
    Merck followed behind me. “I can’t believe you’ve never heard of a Bailey’s Comet.”
    “What the fuck is that anyway?”
    “Bailey’s Irish Cream, butterscotch schnapps, goldschlager, rum, and a dash of cinnamon.”
    “And fire?” I glanced behind me and didn’t see him. He must’ve gone in the male bathroom. I went back to heading my way. Sweat coated my whole face. Everywhere burned and hissed. Things snapped around me and I prayed it wasn’t the walls or foundation.
    “Yeah. It needs some fire,” Merck said through the radio. “You mix the Irish cream, schnapps, and schlager together. Put a layer of rum on top and set it on fire. When I was a bartender, I used to sprinkle some cinnamon on the flame to make it sparkle.”
    “Maybe this guy used too much cinnamon.”
    “Maybe the guy is an idiot,” Merck said. “Male bathroom is clear, by the way.”
    “Good. I’m just getting over to the female’s room.” I reached a glowing, silver door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. “Sarasota Fire. Call out! Anyone in here? Call out!”
    No one responded.
    I said into the radio, “We should have switched rooms. This one is disgusting.”
    “I’m shocked,” Merck said. “Women are usually neat.”
    “Never. Trust me. I grew up with four sisters. They’re worse than men.”
    Thankfully, flames hadn’t spread to this space, yet. Still, smoke filled the room. I flashed the light around the floor covered in wet toilet paper and a few bloodied pads. One of the toilets had over run and spilled out murky water.
    Someone coughed, several times.
    I followed the sound to the last stall. “Someone’s in here.”
    “I’m coming,” Merck said.
    Right as I opened the stall door, Merck pounded in behind me.
    A woman lay in a tiny dress on the floor. Besides the coughing, it didn’t look like she was completely conscious. Her eyes had a glassy appearance. She didn’t move. I lowered myself to the floor and picked her up. She moved a little and groaned.
    “You need help picking her up?” Merck asked.
    “Naw.” I grunted. “She’s barely a hundred pounds.”
    “Show off. She’s closer to two hundred pounds.”
    I ripped my mask off and shoved it over her face. “Breathe! Can you hear me?”
    Her eyes blinked a little.
    “Take small breaths. Come on.” I carried her out of the bathroom, coughing myself and damn near close to suffocating. Without the mask, my skin dripped in soot and sweat. It felt like I’d stuck my head into boiling water.
    Shit. You got it. Come on. Don’t be a dumb fuck. Pick up those feet.
    Pressure built in my lungs. The girl’s weight bore down in my arms, but I had no time to think of it. More ceiling crashed in front of us.
    Damn it.
    Merck jumped ahead of me and axed through it all. What he couldn’t tear down with the ax, he destroyed with the Halligan bar. He waved me forward and the girl shivered in my arms, telling me that she’d possibly been doing better. If she was scared, then she was alive. Pain shot through my legs, but I increased my space.
    We rounded the corner with Merck serving as the guide.
    When he pushed the door opened, I shifted my walking into running and gasped in the fresh air. An EMT met me halfway with a board to carry her. Every part of me hoped to collapse right there on the ground. My legs were strained. My arms ached. My lungs felt like they were about to explode.
    I focused on my breaths as they took away the woman. More fighters rushed by to finish the job. No one died. My whole group got in and